The Art of Play
by Ellie 5192
Summary: Challenge: "Sharon and Andy go on a sex toy website together"… and then a whole lot more… Smut. Porn. PWP. Whatever you want to call it, it's rated M and probably should get buried in the dark corners of the internet. But alas, you get it here instead. With love and thanks to Jules, M, and Shelley, my partners in crime.


_Smut. PWP. Porn. Sex. And then some fluff at the end. Written as a challenge for my fabulous ladies, Jules, M and Shelley. Since it was a challenge, the idea was to make the story as dirty as possible, so that's what you all get. I'm not even sure it's legal to put this anywhere but on literotica, but alas, __**M++ **__is the rating. You have been warned sufficiently…_

"_Sharon and Andy go on a sex toy website together"… and then a whole lot more… _

**The Art of Play**

It had to be a sex dungeon. Of course it had to be a sex dungeon. It had been almost two weeks since they'd had sex – first her kids were in town, then Rusty was home from college for a couple of days, and then Andy had been visiting Nicole, and somehow it had been two weeks since they'd had sex. And now, of all crime scenes, it was a sex dungeon.

Which would have been fine, if only they hadn't had to bring all the damn merchandise back to the office as evidence.

The various reactions of the team had been amusing to say the least. Tao and Buzz had both studiously ignored the boxes pilled around the desks, sticking to their security footage and bank records. Provenza had eyed the boxes with a look caught between disgust and dismay. To think, people actually needed all this stuff just to have sex? What on earth?

Sykes had seemed curious, if a bit squeamish. She was no prude, for sure, but the collection went so far beyond standard dildos. Andy had a feeling she'd be searching online tonight. He was of a mind to do the same, just quietly, except that he and Sharon planned on being in the same room at the same time tonight. He was not going to waste that kind of time.

There were vibrators of all sizes (and if anybody had told him you could buy vibrating _underwear_ his previous relationships would have gone very differently). There were things that looked unsanitary or downright uncomfortable (because they were _ridgy_, and _bent_, and good god, just how elastic were vaginas anyway… if that's even what they were for… which was an entirely new and horrific thought). There were toys shaped like tongues – wide and flat, and clearly not designed to go _in_ anywhere, so were obviously meant for external stimulation. He could manage that himself, thank you. And a few cock rings, some of which vibrated. And okay, that last one got his attention, if only for curiosity.

There were chains and ties, and wrist cuffs in leather, with feathers or without. A couple of ball gags, as to be expected. A whip that looked more like a horse's lunge whip than a bedroom toy. None of that extra kinky stuff put him on edge though, because it was _kinky_ and therefore _out of the ordinary_. It was supposed to be out of this world; that was the point. It was not supposed to be as everyday as the innocuous dildos (although, even the varying textures and materials of those had him posing a few questions because… glass? Coloured, swirly, wavy glass? Really?).

No, it was not that stuff that had him fighting a half-stiffy all day. It was the box with all the normal looking stuff that did it. The box with all the perfectly ordinary, mostly dick-shaped vibrators. Because, frankly, there were just so _many_.

One was pink and smooth, slightly bulbous at the end, with buttons on the base. Okay. He could figure out the usage. He'd never held a vibrator while it was on, but he remembered the early days of his marriage and a certain washing machine that did more than just the washing. So he understood that one. And yes, granted, that washing machine was a very fun, very satisfying idea.

Then there was another one – orange this time – which was exactly the same, only it had a second, smaller arm. He couldn't tell if it was supposed to stay outside the body or go in the arse, which was slightly disconcerting, and provided a brief mental flash featuring a certain woman bent over the side of her bed. Oh yes, definitely needed to not think about that one.

Next he saw what frankly looked like a smooth purple egg. It was attached to a cord with a remote on the other end, and simple looking buttons, just up and down, no multi-settings or anything so flash. Were these things supposed to be versatile – did they come with options a), b) and c) – or did the people who bought them just magically _know _which orifice was supposed to be subjected to its wrath?

See, the washing machine he understood – he got the appeal, and it was lovely. But it was also straightforward, and anatomically possible. Tab A in slot B, add some jiggle; voila. Half of these monstrosities looked like they required a five-page manual and an undergraduate degree in engineering.

Case in point. He reached into the box and, out of morbid curiosity, picked up a bright blue vibrator. This one looked positively violent. It had the head of a dick; that part was fine, and though the girth was ambitious it was still humanly possible. But below that there was a casing of tiny grey metal balls, all piled on top of each other behind a flexible silicone cover. It felt as though it would give out under pressure. Or perhaps it was designed to move by itself, who would know. Then below that there was the second arm which was ridged. On the very tip of it were two little pegs no longer than his thumbnail, side by side. They looked like little blue devil horns, and he could not fathom their use. The whole thing was adorned with a subtle swirl, the plastic fashioned into a pattern.

He was just about to turn it on, just for shits and giggles, when his sixth sense stopped him, and instead he dropped it back into the evidence box, thankful he was still wearing the black evidence gloves. Only a second later he felt Sharon come up behind him and stand near his shoulder. Without turning he knew she would have her arms crossed and her work face on. What he didn't expect was for her to lean just fractionally closer – not enough to touch him, but enough to be in his personal space – and whisper at him in a low, throaty voice.

"That's the best kind. The little arm works the clit, the big one works inside. And the ball bearings do amazing things"

As if he didn't have a semi already.

He just shot her a look over his shoulder, and she smirked fractionally before stepping back. To anyone else the exchanged looked like a quiet admonishment to leave the toys alone. But for him it was so far beyond just sexy. Sharon knew what these things did. More than that, she had a firm opinion on how to use them and their effectiveness. He tried not to let that bruise his ego; if she was unsatisfied, he was confident she would have told him. But he had never considered that there might be a box of her own goodies hiding under her bed.

He sat down before someone noticed his semi was not so semi anymore.

Sharon turned back to the room and immediately launched into the investigation. They had a murder to solve, after all. But it didn't help his situation at all, because no matter where he looked all he could see was one of these various toys between her legs, and suddenly a lot of them were starting to make a lot of sense to him.

Mercifully he got through the rest of the day thinking only about murder and gore. But on his way out he was informed by Hers Truly that she now had the house to herself – child-free and quiet - and that if he wanted to come over for a coffee later that would be fine. Not that anyone overheard their little excuse, because she said it so low, but they kept up the ruse anyway. For appearances sake.

And so that night, just an hour after they had parted ways, she heard a knock on her front door while she was sitting and sipping a wine, enjoying the mood. She got up and opened the door with a laugh. He glared at her and just harrumphed.

"You were a mess today" she said lowly, the glass of wine tucked against her chest.

"Gee, I wonder why" he groused, moving past her and ignoring her laugh as she closed the door in his wake. The atmosphere of the place didn't surprise him. This was their first night alone in weeks and she was as pent up as him. There were no candles, because in the heat of the moment they didn't want to be worrying about fire hazards. But the lamps were on low, casting a warm light, and there was a smell in the air – jasmine, he thought – that made the place seem decadent.

"So… should I continue your education?" she asked, nodding towards her open laptop. Even at this distance he could make out a webpage littered with toys on it. It looked like a purchasing site. Well, that's just great. All of his efforts to contain his erection flew out the window, and he succumbed to the fact that he'd be hard until he was relieved tonight.

But still, morbid curiosity overtook him, and he approached the couch and sat down with the computer on his lap. She downed the last sip of her wine and left the glass on her desk, coming over to the couch to join him.

"I was just browsing – debating whether to buy another one. Those boxes today gave me some ideas"

"Dare I ask how you know all of this?" he said, eyeing her as she settled against him, curling onto the couch and into his side. She hummed as she ran her hand across his stomach.

"I know about _all of this_ because I have some of these" she said factually. And punctuated her point but running her palm decisively further down, over his belt buckle, to rest against the bulge in his pants. He twitched, and just managed to swallow a groan. She didn't do more; just caressed him lightly through his jeans.

"Care to explain?" he said. His voice was decidedly more chocked than before, but there was no cure for that with her hand currently running up and down the length of his dick in the most casual manner.

"This one" she said, taking her hand off him to point to the screen. One of the many images was a standard lifelike dildo, and her finger landed on the screen just under it. "I have one just like that"

She used the scroll pad for a moment and he tried not to miss the feeling of her hand.

"And this one…" she said, thoughtfully, as though thinking. "And the one I told you about today, obviously…" She trailed off, and then exclaimed "You know what-"

She launched away from him and off the couch, and then stood, holding out a hand for him to take. He did, but also gave her a curious look. "Why don't I just show you" she finished.

He almost swallowed his tongue, but he wasn't about to argue. His curiosity was piqued and his arousal was through the roof. If she wanted to demonstrate putting condoms on bananas it would probably ring his bell at this point. She smirked at him just enough to tell him she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew exactly how worked up she was making him.

He followed her to her room and watched as she shucked out of her house cardigan, turning to face him from where she stood at the foot of her bed. As she took the hem of her teeshirt in hand she raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk on her lips.

"This is not a free show, you know"

He took the hint loud and clear, practically ripping his leather jacket from his shoulders and unbuckling his belt almost in the same motion. She laughed at him in good nature, encouraging and yet highly amused. And then she turned her back to him and pulled the teeshirt over her head in the process, and then she… walked away.

No, she walked to the other side of the bed and crouched down. She stood up again with a box in hand, and placed it on the bed without comment. It was not a very small box – more like a shoebox, but for high heels, not tiny flats or anything. It was substantial enough. His eyebrows met his hairline and his hands momentarily paused in their quest to down his fly as he considered just how many toys would fit in there. Sharon only smirked at him again, and proceeded to divest herself of her own jeans.

While Andy was still fighting with his jeans, shoes, socks, shirt, and his undershirt – damn himself for wearing so many layers – Sharon spread out on the bed, right in the middle, framed by her European pillows. She was positively delectable. And, he noticed, she was wearing a matching set of underwear in a deep emerald green. In the dim of lamplight, spread out half naked and absolutely wanton, the vivid green of her eyes enhanced by the lacy barely-there bra, she was divine. He just about came in his own undies just looking at her.

Like the vixen she was, she patted the bed right next to her hip, encouraging him to sit. He did so, only his boxers left on now, and tented something fierce. Without the confines of his jeans his dick was straining, and no longer partially hard. Oh no, not with that sight in front of him. He was fully hard.

She pulled him in for a kiss, and it was tender and soft, unlike every thought flitting between them. He loved it; the intimacy of such a heated moment. They broke and he leaned down and kissed one of her nipples through the lace of her bra, and she moaned, arching her back and reaching a hand around to unclasp her bra behind her back. He took the straps and slid them down her arms, and then licked her nipples into hard peaks, sucking on her flesh. Though already horny, the feeling of her breasts in his mouth made her unbearably wet. She almost thought she wouldn't need lube for this demonstration. (Ridiculous, really – she'd need it eventually – but maybe not at first? What a thought.)

He pulled away from her, and in a monumental show of restraint his eyes left hers and flicked over to her mystery box. She smiled at him and nodded, and then flicked the lid off.

It was a veritable smorgasbord. One of every size, it seemed; some with chords, some without, and a spare little pack of batteries in the corner. He almost gasped; for sure, his mouth dropped open. She smirked at him but didn't say anything, just danced her fingers over the top of the collection and picked one. A flat, wide one – the kind he thought of as a large tongue earlier in the day.

He gulped. She giggled. And then she looked at her underwear, looked at him, and then looked at her underwear again. He got the hit.

Deciding to at least _try_ to level the playing field, he gave her a feral look and then slid down the bed while eyeing her, sliding his hands over her hips and thighs, full open palms that burned her skin. He took the lacy band at her hip between his teeth and snapped it against her skin. She shuddered under him.

Wasting no more time he pulled the fabric down her skin, slow and scintillating, making her shiver; trying to get her to the same state he'd been fighting all day.

"So what are you planning on doing with all of those, then?" he growled at her. She hissed as he kissed the inside of her thigh. He sat up and looked at her, now naked on the bed in front of him, her body sprawled among the pillows and fluffy comforter. Quickly – while he still had the mind to do it, he grabbed at the top of her bedding and encouraged her to sit up and pull it back. It seemed like the best thing to do, given the box laying open and the assumption that tonight might get… sticky. (Sheets were always easier to wash than entire quilt covers).

"Which ones are you confused about?" she asked back. Her throat was still low and sultry as she lowered herself back against the pillows once more.

He looked in the box again; the one she still held in her hand. Wordlessly he took it from her and dropped it back in the box. He didn't need a toy to show him how to lick his tongue along the length of her opening. As if to prove his point he lowered his mouth to her, and without preamble he lapped at the wetness he found there. She moaned at the sudden feeling, though he didn't stay long enough to really work her up. Just to tease; just to get her back for that stunt in the murder room earlier.

He looked back at the box again, and she looked too. The dick-shaped dildo he understood; that one was practically boring compared to everything else he'd learned today. The butt plug he… well, didn't quite _understand_, but certainly knew its function, so that was fine. (Then again, seeing it in Sharon, while he worked her in other places… it could… hmmm… no. Not his thing. Curious. Interesting. But he had more important things in mind. Maybe next time.)

He reached into the box and pulled out a silicone egg, this one without a chord, save for a short plastic loop on the end of it (he assumed for retrieval, or else to put it on a keychain? It was anybody's guess). Sharon hummed below him, eyeing it with an expression that bordered on fondness.

"Hands-free" she said. "The matching remote should be in there too"

It was. He pulled it out and eyed the two of them side by side with trepidation. She smirked, and took the egg from him, nudging him to shuffle back towards her ankles. With little preamble – and it turned out she was wet enough for at least a little play – she inserted the egg inside herself, a blissful expression on her face. His eyes boggled.

She met his eyes, her own clouded with anticipation, and then nodded to the remote. "Turn it on. See what it does"

He clicked a button. From somewhere inside her – the place he wanted to bury his throbbing cock – he heard a hum, low and steady. Her eyes closed and her back arched, and she immediately succumbed to whatever the egg was doing to her. He was completely transfixed.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "There's more than one button you know"

And so he pressed them all. It was amazing. The constant humming seemed to keep her in a state of pure passion without making her overwhelmed (which he attributed to her love of clit play), and he likened it to when he went down on her and would keep a soft rhythm – steady and arousing but not forceful. The pulsing settings didn't do as much – not enough friction for her? (good news for his dick) – but the graduated rhythms made her eyes flutter closed and her hips arch and writhe. He learned more about what she liked in the precious five minutes spent playing with that egg than he did in the first three months of them sleeping together. It was incredible. He was envious.

Eventually, when her orgasm seemed more likely, she took the remote from him and stopped the egg completely, breathing heavily.

"I was looking forward to watching you come" he said, disappointed, despite the fact his cock was actually painful at this point.

"And you will" she rasped, reaching between her legs and pulling the chord slowly, the egg creeping out of her now almost dry vagina. The lack of movement inside her failed to spread her wetness around, and though the egg was coated in it, the rest of her was not. The next round would need the lube, which was thankfully also tucked in the corner of the box, right next to the batteries. Well then. Little Miss Prepared.

"But", she continued, taking a tissue from the nightstand and wiping the toy. "There's one in there you're far more curious about"

The look on her face was positively wicked. He smirked, knowing exactly what she was referring to, and lo and behold, there, on the top, was a light pink version of that blue monstrosity he had looked at earlier that day. The thing with multiple heads and ball bearings.

"That's my rabbit" she said.

"Your _what_?"

She laughed at the look on his face. "That's what those ones are called; a rabbit. Because of the ears on the clit stimulator"

Oh. Well, that explained what the devil horns were for then.

"Would you like to see how it works?" she asked, feigning demure just to tease him. He gulped, and then reached into the box and pulled out the lube for her.

He watched engrossed as she lubed herself up and then coated the toy with a practiced hand, and tried again not to think about how often she went to this _rabbit_ instead of him. It couldn't be very often, given how much they ordinarily slept together, but then, maybe she just had an insatiable libido and needed them both. Who knew? (He made a mental note to ask her later, for his ego's sake.)

With eyes like dinner plates he watched her. She went to place the toy between her legs and then stopped.

"Wait. First I'll show you what it's going to do, since you won't be able to see it once it's inside me"

He gripped the sheet beneath his hand as his cock twitched in envy and impatience. Sharon ignored his reaction, and instead pressed one of the buttons on the toy. Immediately the head started rotating and the beads spun around.

"That's the first speed. It has three speeds for each head, but that's the general idea"

Out of curiosity he reached his hand out and, in a move she found hugely erotic, wrapped his thumb and finger around the beaded area, feeling the sensation. Oh yes, he could understand perfectly well what that must feel like – despite the violent look of the thing, it's function was starting to make total sense to him.

"Then you have the rabbit ears that vibrate" she continued, her voice husky with want. She pressed a second button, and the ears began vibrating against his finger. Good god, what a sensation. He tried to imagine what that must be like against the head of his dick (the only part of his body he could in any way liken to the sensitivity of her clit); he couldn't fathom it. It would be too much for him to bear, particularly in his current state.

"So both of those have three speeds to them" she reiterated.

"And which do you like best?"

She gave him an inscrutable look. "I like to change it up. Slow works best when I'm imagining you making love to me. The fast setting gets me off when I think of you turning me doggy style and fucking me properly"

And with that he was sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was deliberately trying to make him blow his load without actually touching him. It was apparent to him now. Well, two could play that game. He took the toy from her hand without breaking eye contact, and then turned it off. Deliberately, while smirking at her in the naughtiest way, he lowered it to her vulva and ran it along her length, teasing her, knowing that she loved the sensation of lubed up flesh. She moaned.

Very slowly, and very deliberately, he placed the toy at her opening, and then centimetre by agonising centimetre, he pushed it inside her. She panted into the feeling, and marvelled at the fact that she was not controlling it. That Andy was between her legs, holding her favourite toy, and slowly pushing it inside her. Overcome with desire, her hands cupped her breasts (another amazing feeling – both hands on her breasts while the bottom half continued to be taken care of) and kneaded her flesh, squeezing her nipples almost to the point of actual pain.

When the toy hit bottom she gasped, and her eyes flew open. Andy could feel the pressure of her inner muscles working against the toy in his hand. It was a sensation he had felt around his cock often enough to know how amazing it was. She arched her back into the feeling, and he pushed the angle just a little different; just enough to make the clitoral stimulator press more firmly against its target.

She moaned, and her eyes closed in pleasure. Her entire body was taut and poised, ready to be pleased. And so, he did the only thing left to do in his position. He turned the toy on.

Being able to control her pleasure to this degree was something he never thought he could deal with. It was different from fucking her; there was no fighting against his own desires during the process; no missing her reactions as he got lost in his own sensations. Holding this ghastly looking toy against her – knowing that inside her, the top was rotating against that spot that made her go wild (the g-spot, she would later clarify for him); knowing that the beads were turning just inside her opening, and feeling for himself the vibrations of the rabbit ears against her clit. It was an aphrodisiac of the highest order.

He worked the toy inside her, watching her hands gripping her breasts, catching her eye when she dared to open them (when she wasn't overcome so thoroughly that her head was thrown back in ecstasy). It was… powerful, and erotic, and served his ego. He couldn't get enough of watching her; of cataloguing how her body moved, in a way that just wasn't possible to do when he was hilt-deep inside her.

It didn't take long for her to start mewling, and then crying out between panting breaths. Her hips bucked, searching for that final push over the edge – the edge she was teetering on but couldn't quite fall over. He found it for her by moving the toy in and out, pushing it at just the right angle so as to maximise pressure on her clit.

She broke apart underneath him, and it was a sight he would carry with him to his dying day. It was familiar, and yet so different from the orgasms they shared; it was completely selfish and one-sided, and all about her. It was beautiful. Her back arched, and then her body went ridged, and she held her breath for the longest time as her inner muscles pulsed and spasmed. Her hands, no longer cognisant enough to continue their assault on her breasts, had burrowed into her pillow and were gripping it tightly, both pulling it closer and pushing it away.

As she started her descent from the highest peak, she let out her breath on a gasp, tiny high-pitched moans released on ever exhale. She opened her eyes at looked at him, still overcome; not quite focused. But she looked infinitely pleased. She closed her eyes again and groaned softly into the final few waves of pleasure, savouring the intensity of an orgasm that had been building all day.

He lowered the toy to its softest setting as she came down, knowing she liked to continue feeling the movements until she was fully recovered. He moved above her and kneeled over her, and when she opened her eyes again he moved in and kissed her. She smiled against his kiss, happy and sated, and it was such an intimate moment for him that he could hardly breathe.

She reached between her legs to gently take his hand, and coaxed him to pull the toy from her. He turned it off and threw it to the side, and then fell between her legs and kissed her more and more, running his hands over her thighs and her stomach, up to cover her breasts.

"Okay" he said, panting as he pulled away from her kiss. "I think I understand the appeal now"

And she laughed, deep and throaty, her voice still not quite recovered as she caught her breath. His cock was thick and throbbing against her entrance, and so hot it practically burned. She reached down and took him in hand, then guided him inside her. He groaned into her neck, clenching his eyes shut. After so long being denied it almost hurt to finally be sheathed inside her, her inner walls still clenching with aftershocks.

"I just want you to know that nothing compares to this" she whispered. She punctuated her point with a gentle press of her hips against his. It spurred him into action immediately, and she smiled happily – contentedly – as she felt his length pull back and then thrust inside her again. Her release had been too intense; too full. She would not come again. But it had been so satisfying, and she was more than happy to hold him as he thrust into her steadily, right up until he pulled back and kissed her hungrily. She kissed him back with fervour. And then his thrusts lost their rhythm completely, and he was coming, shooting inside her so forcefully that she had no idea how he had controlled himself through their little game.

He groaned, overwhelmed, and pressed into her, his teeth scrapping at the junction of her neck and shoulder, not quite enough to mark. She held him to her, and felt content when he lost his strength with a shudder and lay on top of her. She knew he was trying to bare some of his weight on his elbows, but most of it was pressing her into the bed, and it was a gratifying feeling.

"This" she said, turning her lips into his hair, running her hands up and down his back as he caught his breath. "This is what can't be replaced"

And he leaned up and kissed her again, tender and loving and joyful. It was the kind of kiss that fantasies didn't do justice; that memory never quite captured right.

Oh, she loved her toys just fine. Yes, they provided needed relief, and they were different – something sharper, or longer, or harder, or more versatile. The orgasms from them were different too. They were fun, and ever-ready, and particularly before she and Andy were lovers they kept her sane. But they were not a weight above her, or the feeling of stretching her legs around his waist, and no toy could kiss her like she was their world. No toy could engulf her in its embrace and literally cover her body from head to foot with sweat-slicked skin, chests expanding and contracting against one another in the afterglow.

Not a toy in the universe could replicate a warm body between her legs, and none could whisper in her ear that it loved her. That, in the end, was the distinction that mattered.

(Not that she was giving them up, though, not by a long shot. They were fantastic. And she still had a cock ring in there she was dying to try on him. The fun was not over yet, no sir. And what fun it would be.)


End file.
